


Clear Communication

by sushipants



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Drinking, Gift Fic, M/M, One Shot, mistletoe y'knoe, very fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:41:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8988403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushipants/pseuds/sushipants
Summary: Marco thinks Jeans name is Sean, and Jean doesn't have the heart to correct him.I wasn't planning on going to the party that night, nor was I planning on wearing that one sweater. Plans change though, in other words, no one can say no to Sasha, not even me.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iMoony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iMoony/gifts).



> For iMoony! i hope you have a wonderful christmas and enjoy :)

Sasha had already shoved the horrendous, bright red Christmas sweater over my head. She was half ushering, half pushing me through the door when I realised it just what going to the party meant. Probably getting drunk, probably getting into yet another fight with Yaeger. “Sasha I’m not gonna know anyone there. Don't make me leave the house, its bloody cold” I mumbled, trying to shuffle back into my apartment.

“Jean, y'know almost everyone who's gonna be there, and they have a fireplace! Besides, you lazy butt, its gonna be fun! I promise” she chuckled, nudging me out into the hallway again. I heard the lock click behind me and I turned to throw her a questioning look.

“I don't remember giving you a key to My apartment, Sash” I muttered, fixing my sweater so it sat right.

She shrugged and held them out to me. “You didn’t, I picked them up while you were in the shower” a warm smile on her lips. "We're gonna be late if you don't move it"

As always, it was impossible to argue with her, but I did make a mental note to change the locks. 

Her smile proved to be contagious yet again, as she dragged me to the Christmas party. She buzzed on about how good it'll be the whole way there.

\----  
We managed to find the large apartment block easily. Christmas lights were hanging everywhere. From beams and windows, anywhere and everywhere you could think to hang them from. That must be one hell of a power bill, I thought, blinking my eyes to adjust them to the lights.

Once we had walked to the door of the party, I let Sasha do the honours of knocking. Mostly because my hands are frozen and there is no way they're leaving my pockets. The door opened after a moment and a head I recognised as Christa’s peered around the door.

“Oh my goodness come in, some in,” she beckoned, opening the door wider to allow us passage. “I’m so glad you came, there are some snacks on the table, and punch too. I have to run off though, I’ve left Ymir in the kitchen, and I don’t trust her with my soufflé”. She smiled before making her way to the kitchen. “Make yourselves at home loves” adding over her shoulder, before disappearing into the crowd.

Her place was huge; she and Ymir had worked hard to afford it. With both of their scholarships it meant this beautiful home was there to call their own. Ymir had clearly been the one to decorate the place today, though. Paper snowflakes and tinsel were hanging from the ceiling. A Christmas tree hidden under countless decorations, even red and green lights wrapped around the furniture. The girl was passionate about Christmas, I could tell you that.

When I turned back to where I assumed Sasha would be, I was greeted by an empty space. Probably found Connie, or better yet, snacks. I snorted as I soon found out it was the latter.

I decided to grab myself a drink, heading over to where I saw Sasha filling a plate with various snacks. After having filled a cup of clearly spiked punch (thanks Reiner), I walked over to the fireplace.

I had only made it a few paces before Connie latched himself onto me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to change my course.

“Hey man! Who would’ve thought we would see you here at a Christmas party, let alone in that beloved sweater” he laughed. The poor man had to reach up at an odd angle to keep his hand on my shoulder.

“It’s great to see you too man, it’s been what? A whole two hours? And before you say anything else I know you and sash were working together so spill it. Why was it so important for me to be here man?” I slouch slightly to make it easier for my bald-headed friend to take me wherever it was we were going.

“Well, there’s just a guy I'd like you to meet, hah, I think you might like him” he patted my back as he chuckled. “Might be what you need” he added with a wink.  
I grunted in reply and shoved him softly, still playing along though. Sure I didn’t get out much, or have much, shall we say, company, but that was fine by me. But as I looked up I saw Connie talking to a guy, who had been leaning on the wall. I didn’t recognise him from any of my classes, so I assumed he was the friend Connie had mentioned. I waited where I stood, taking a sip of my drink.

The man looked up from Connie, meeting my gaze briefly. He waved, looking back down at Connie before making his way towards me. He smiled warmly at me, probably because of Connie, but a man can hope, right?

Connie had long since disappeared into the crowd of people by the time the man had come over. His warm doe eyes glancing over me as he held out his hand. “Marco, and you must be Sean, right? You’re probably Connie’s only friend I haven’t met here yet” came his, Marco’s, introduction.

My mouth went dry as I shook his hand. Sean? Does Connie know a Sean? Or has this dude got my name wrong?

Clearly having paused too long, with his hand still in mine, he laughed softly. “Sorry if I startled you, just, Con has mentioned you a couple times, and I assumed you were him…”  
I swallow, nodding violently. Not willing to meet his gaze, I focus instead on a freckle by the neckline of his green Christmas sweater. “Yup, that’s me, Sean, Connie’s friend” I manage nervously, the name feeling foreign on my tongue. I could almost laugh, had I not been so nervous. Is it just me or is he getting hot in here. It, is it getting hot in here. The temperature of the room that is. Yeesh.

I could feel a warm blush making its way to my cheeks as he looked at me cautiously. He can hear my thoughts can't he, I’m already fucked.

“Well, Sean, Connie’s friend, would it be alright if I had my hand back?” his voice sounding amused, a small smile to back that up.

“O-oh fuck sorry, here, take it” I mumbled, almost throwing his hand back to him, running my fingers through my hair. Just blame it on the punch. The punch you’ve had barely a sip of.

I’m a mess, as always, particularly now. Still, Marco laughs and tilts his head to the now vacant couch in a silent ‘wanna sit?’

I only nod in response, not trusting my words. Sitting on the couch with my knees to my chest, I turn so my back is against the armrest. In this light I can see him better, the freckles on his face stood out more, there’s so many I doubt I could count that high. His dark hair falling over his eyes, lips still turned up in a natural smile. I could feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Though that could easily be hunger or something equally reasonable.

It takes me while to realise I’m staring at him again, and I manage to catch myself before Marco does. Taking a long swig of punch, wincing slightly at the sharp taste of vodka, before I have a stab at conversation.

“Why haven’t we met yet?” really. You have got to be kidding me. No ‘hi Marco, how are you’ or ‘so how do you know Connie’. Maybe even, oh I don’t know, telling him your actual name? No? Perfect.

My eyes widen slightly as he laughs yet again. This man must either be incredibly drunk already or just an understanding guy, or both. “I transferred to some of Connie’s classes a few weeks ago” he explained. “Law just wasn’t my thing. This is the first time I’ve seen him out of class actually” he shrugged, taking a sip of what appeared to be punch. 

“That makes sense, I don’t see you as a lawyer honestly” the words stumble out of my mouth before I have the chance to stop myself. “I mean you, you seem, too nice?” I should stop talking before I dig myself an early grave. Do I stop though, never.

“It’s the freckles isn’t it. Hah, I’ve been told they make me look somewhat innocent. Thought I could use that to my advantage but no one seems to take me seriously” shrugging and looking over at me.

“More like gorgeous, but I guess innocent will do for the courtroom” I laugh, chugging the rest of my drink. “Wanna refill?” I ask, holding out my hand before he has a chance to question my earlier statement. He nods, standing up.

“I’ll come with” taking my hand in his and guiding me to the table of food and drink. “Your sweater is nice, it practically yells Christmas y’know?”

I looked down at my sweater and notice it does in fact say ‘it's fucking Christmas’ in all caps. “Oh right, yeah Sasha made it for me a few years ago, said it suited me nicely or something” I hum, filling up both of our cups. When I finished I handed him his drink, only to notice he was still looking at me. “Did I do something wrong?” other than being nervous I didn’t think I had done anything to offend him, did I give him the wrong cup?

“No no, don’t worry, it’s just...” he leaned in a bit closer to murmur a word in my ear. My luck being what it is, that word was mistletoe or course. My breath hitched as he planted a soft kiss on my cheek.

When I still hadn’t moved, or said anything after he pulled away, he blushed. “Sorry, just, mistletoe is mistletoe, uh, I’ll talk to you later Sean”. Flashing me a quick smile as he got lost in the small crowd of people.

After a few moments assessing the situation, I managed to join the party. Eventually making my way back to Marco a couple times, one of them ended with me getting his number. Still I don’t have the heart to tell him my name is Jean and not Sean.

Its close enough though, and if it means he’s talking to me, then it can’t be half bad.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a bit rusty so please forgive me


End file.
